


In Your Blood

by The_White_Rabbit42



Series: The Best Laid Plans [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Quickie, Smut, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: Something is plaguing you and it’s as unexplainable as the absence of a certain archangel and his behavior when he returns.





	In Your Blood

**Author's Note:**

> For @gabriel-monthly-challenge blog April dialogue prompt: 
> 
> "You know, some people think that prayer is just as essential to life as water, air, and sex."

Still awake at an ungodly hour? Check.

 

No closer to solving this case than you’d been three days ago? Check.

 

Fever hitting full force? Check, check, and check.

 

Which was why you were spending most of your nights outside of the motel rather than in it. The cold night air was calming, considering the heat pulsing through your system. It came in waves, rolling over you seemingly without rhyme or reason. The more this happened, the more you were convinced it wasn’t a coincidence that all of this started when you picked up the trail of a witches’ coven.

 

Then again, it could simply be natural wear and tear; come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten a decent night’s sleep or finished a meal.

 

You waited until the sun came up before rising from your night’s vigil. Your muscles ached in protest, stiff from sitting against hard pavement and unforgiving brick. It was a welcome sensation; distracting and grounding you as you started your morning routine of fetching coffee and breakfast so everyone could hit the ground running.

 

As with the last few days, you were completely unaware of the presence that shadowed your every move.

 

***

 

“Dean, I think you should pull over,” a concerned Sam suggested.

 

It was safe to say that something was definitely wrong with you and if Dean didn’t let you out of the vehicle now, you were going to spontaneously combust.

 

“Dude, we’re like five minutes from the motel,” Dean whined.

 

Another surge ricocheted its way through your body, causing you to drop your head between your legs with a low moan.

 

“Yeah, pulling over,” Dean quickly amended. By the panic in his voice, it was apparent his concern was less for you than due to the thought that you might be moments away from heaving all over his precious Baby. That was just it, though. You weren’t sick at all. There wasn’t a single unpleasant sensation sliding through you and that was the problem.

 

The car hadn’t even come to a complete stop before you stumbled out the door. The fresh air felt glorious, spring and winter wrestling for dominance as hints of each wafted on the breeze. It helped ease the flush searing across your skin and brought a modicum of relief.

 

You wandered several feet from the road before dropping down on your knees, taking several deep breaths. When that didn’t work, you forced yourself to slow your thoughts sufficiently to review what you knew about the situation.

 

It had all started about a week ago with hot flashes. Heat would blossom beneath your skin, radiating through your entire body. A flush would spread across the surface, painting hues ranging from pale pink all the way to five alarm red. It wasn’t just your cheeks that suffered. Oh no. That heat was everywhere, simmering through the length of you and pooling straight into your core.

 

On a good day it was merely distracting, on a bad one, a touch maddening but for the most part it had been tolerable. There wasn’t much you could do when this happened other than step outside for some air. Take a cold shower. Clench your knees together and ride it out.

 

You braced yourself, knowing your sensitivity was about to spike; but to what heights was becoming increasingly unpredictable. Usually it made fabric whisper over skin in ways that was simply divine. Today, however, something changed. Something upped the stakes to the point wearing a bra felt nearly impossible and your jeans had become a nightmare.

 

You weren’t even going to acknowledge what riding in the back of the impala along a bumpy dirt road had done to you.

 

At first you thought it might be Gabriel messing with you. It was exactly the sort of thing that smartass would do, especially considering how many times you’d turned him down lately. Yet, there was an absence where his presence would be, that familiar energy slipping further and further to the edge of your world the longer you went without seeing him. Sure, you’d been busier than normal, but the odd part was how he seemed to have mysteriously disappeared. He hadn’t answered a single prayer or text you’d thrown his way in over a week.

 

You might have been worried, but it was Gabe. He had probably created his own amusement park stocked full of sweets, run by busty Amazon women, and was currently caught in the dilemma of deciding what to ride again: the staff or the rollercoaster.

 

Your current dilemma, on the other hand, brought you little to no amusement whatsoever.

 

The breeze picked up and it felt glorious against your skin. Before you realized what you were doing, you were pulling at the buttons on your shirt, shedding sleeves in favor of the t-shirt beneath. It was completely out of character for you and probably what drew the most attention. Attention you had been hoping to escape for a few minutes.

 

“You alright?” Sam’s voice rumbled from above you.

 

Of course he would be the one to come check on you.

 

You could feel him; you could literally tell where he was in relation to your body as he came closer to placing his hand on your shoulder the way he often did when concerned. You did not need this level of awareness in your life anymore than you needed him touching you. Rather, there was a whole lot of awareness for the need to be touched and you weren’t certain you could trust yourself to behave if that actually happened.

 

“Don’t,” you warned, body bracing itself, muscles tightly coiling as if preparing for an attack.

 

“What is it?” Concern pushed the fringe of panic and you released a slow breath, tension allaying as his presence shifted away. You turned and you could only imagine what you looked like with the way his brows steadily rose.

 

“I think we have a problem.”

 

***

 

“So we have any idea what this is?” Sam asked, eyes following you as you paced back and forth across the small motel room.

 

“You kidding me?” Dean asked, gesturing toward you. “Flushed skin, swollen lips, dilated pupils, overheated, can’t sit still, eyeing us like we might be her next meal? I’d say that’s pretty clearly a lust spell.”

 

Of course Dean would be able to spot one of those a mile away.

 

“What I don’t understand is how she got hit with it to begin with,” he continued, fingers rubbing along his jaw in frustration.

 

“Both Cas and Gabriel aren’t responding?” Sam asked.

 

You’d already tried praying twice. You almost didn’t want to give the archangel the satisfaction of trying again since his plan was to obviously ignore you. You folded your arms over your chest, however, eyes glancing up toward the ceiling.

 

Gabriel, if you’re done being an ass, I could use your help with something and it’s not sex.

 

Then again, maybe the problem was cluing him in to the fact you were not asking him to come around for anything fun.

 

Not surprisingly, silence was your only response and you shrugged.

 

“Cas, if you’re not busy, we could use a little help,” Dean said, looking at nothing in particular before giving a quick glance above him. He didn’t have any luck either and for a moment you wondered if whatever connected you to divine beings ever picked up interference.

 

“Well, that settles that,” Sam sighed. “Why don’t I go check out the library in town, see what they have for lore and you two keep checking out leads on the coven.”

 

“Excellent,” you agreed and you were out the door before Dean decided to put you on lockdown, which was apparently imminent, considering his increasingly threatening gaze.

 

***

 

“Why can’t I go with you again?” You demanded, arms folded over your chest as you pinned your friend beneath a glare.

 

“Because you’re already hexed, or cursed, or whatever that is,” Dean said, gesturing toward the rosy shade your skin had begun taking on during the past hour.

 

“If being a horndog makes me unfit to hunt, why do we keep bringing you along?” You sassed. Sam let out an unexpected laugh, one he tried to cover with a cough as his brother shot him a look.

 

“She kind of has a point,” he said, lips pursing as he tried, and failed, to hold back a smile. You winked at him more out of appreciation than with any carnal inclinations. His smile froze, eyes dropping hastily down toward the carpet.

 

“That is exactly why you’re staying,” the older Winchester insisted, waggling his finger with disapproval. “Because you’re distracted. Distrac-ting. A dis-trac-tion.”

 

You almost argued for whom because that clearly would have ended the argument then and there, but you figured there was no need to add insult to injury. You settled on an indignant snort and an eyeroll instead.

 

“It’s a coven, Dean. Coven. Not a duo. Not a trio. Chances are they outnumber us as is and you want to waltz in there one short?” You demanded.

 

“You’re staying here and that’s that,” Dean declared, hand cutting through the air as if that somehow meant the conversation ended in his favor. You glanced over at your only ally to find his gaze avoiding yours and your jaw clenched.

 

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was better you stayed.

 

“Fine,” you agreed. “But if you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming after you.”

 

“Fair enough,” he said, hastily grabbing his bag before you changed your mind. “C’mon, Sammy, let’s finish this.”

 

Sam rose, grabbing his weapon and heading out the door without so much as a wave or acknowledgement of any kind. Dean closely followed, pausing in the doorway as his hand fell on the knob.

 

“Oh, and try not to hump anything while we’re gone,” he teased before shutting the door.

 

***

 

A half hour after they left you got the call that it was over. Unfortunately your problem hadn’t ceased to exist once the coven did. Which is how you found yourself relegated to your own room for the time being, which was just fine with you.

 

The heat had begun to diminish, and, having grown so accustomed to it, you actually began to feel a little chilled. You felt more comfortable being back in your flannel, but you knew it wouldn’t be long before everything started all over again.

 

You’d give your personal God squad one last chance, but if that didn’t work you were calling the king of Hell; either that, or you were heading to the nearest bar, because one way or another you were getting rid of this.

 

Gabe, I need you.

 

“You know, some people think that prayer is just as essential to life as water, air, and sex,” a familiar voice drawled. His unexpected and immediate answer had your heart leaping up into your throat as you whirled toward the noise. You found him leaning against the far wall, his hands in his pockets looking so casual you couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d really been standing there.

 

There was something different about him; a tension that trickled across the space between you, bringing with it a roiling, turbulent energy that burst over your body like a sudden, humid breeze before a storm. His eyes snapped up to yours, and the cocky curl of lips suggested he knew exactly why you’d called him.

 

“Are you suggesting I need to pray more?” You demanded.

 

The arrogant air diminished, that overly casual demeanor returning as he pushed off the wall with a shrug. “Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt.”

 

Sometimes being Gabe’s friend gave you a headache. Not for all the obvious reasons, but because as simple as the man tried to keep things, he himself was a giant, tangled mass of complication. Keep everything to those top, superficial levels, and it was easy. What one saw was what they’d get because Gabe wouldn’t care. Wander anywhere beneath that, however, or hit a nerve and you’d better be a fairly decent strategist or else you’d never figure out what was going on with him.

 

Like right now. You had no clue what his game was around prayers unless… was he suggesting you pray more often to him? Like he was actually upset you’d been busy when all he’d done all day was ignore you?

 

You could see him doing that because he felt ignored by you first. You could also see him being so caught up in his own devices that nothing short of someone almost dying would move him to take action.

 

Jesus. You did not have the patience for this right now.

 

“What I might be saying is you’re not the only beings who do,” he finally said when it became apparent you weren’t going to respond.

 

You eyed him, trying to navigate your uncertainty over whether or not there was actually a point being made or whether he was just messing with you. His brows simply raised, giving you an expectant look a moment before that lingering heat burst through you again, this time much, much stronger. You let out a yelp, grabbing hold of the edge of the dresser as your legs threatened to buckle beneath you.

 

That little shit.

 

“You,” you growled, unsure what you wanted to do more: jump him or murder him.

 

“Me,” he smiled, pointing at himself with both hands as he sashayed toward you.

 

“How?” You couldn’t even form a full sentence with the way your system was going haywire, not just from the unexpected jolt but because the closer he came the higher his energy seemed to rise.

 

“I’m thinking right up there would be nice.” His eyes flicked briefly to the bureau you were clutching, brows giving one quick raise as that smile turned a little more wicked.

 

“That’s not--,” you began but that hand of his came up, snapping you onto it before you could finish.

 

“It’s less of a prayer, per se, and more like a concentrated thought,” he murmured, hands running up your thighs as he eased between your legs. “But I told you you’d know when I wanted something.”

 

Jesus Christ. You weren’t the only one running hot these days. It felt like molten lava was simmering beneath his skin and he was on the verge of erupting. You weren’t sure if you should even touch him, it was so intense.

 

“Not gonna burn you, sweetheart,” he promised and to prove a point he reached out and grasped your face in his hands. His palms were searing to the point it was almost uncomfortable, but he was right. The only thing burning at that moment was that potent cocktail of anger and desire.

 

“But I might light you on fire,” you warned, but the threat was half-hearted, your body clearly winning this battle as the heat from the angel spread to you. Your pulse ignited, hitting a fever pitch and you were acutely and painfully aware of just how long it had been since he touched you.

 

“Oh, sweetheart, believe me, you already have.”

 

His lips crashed against yours and there was no easing into your normal routine. His teeth tugged at your bottom lip, drawing it in for him to take a quick suckle before his tongue delved into your mouth. You groaned, the warmth spilling onto your taste buds in a way that was electrifying.

 

Your fingers flashed to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as he went straight for the one on your pants. His movements were a little more dexterous, although you weren’t completely convinced he didn’t cheat when a single tug had your jeans undone. His hand slipped inside, cupping you over your underwear before tracing a finger over your folds.

 

“Someone’s already soaked,” conceitedness weaved through want in the husk of his tone.

 

Of course you were. The bastard had been teasing you for days. Before you could make a snide remark about it, his hands flew to your waistband, wrenching your pants and underwear so roughly out from beneath you, he almost took you to the floor with them. You glance up at gold to find them shining in a way that made you pause. It was a different gleam than you were used to, a wildness lurking around the edges that was a far cry from the devious tease he normally was.

 

Excitement vied with enjoyment seeing him come apart for once. This was coupled with heady undercurrent knowing that the cause was undeniably all you judging by how famished he looked now that he’d gotten a taste of you.

 

His hands came up to your waist and you expected him to settle between your legs. You did not expect his grip to tighten right before tugging you over the edge. This time you were certain he used his angel powers by the rough and dizzying way you suddenly found yourself face down, arms folded beneath your stomach.

 

His palm settled on your lower back and your whole body tensed. You found that world of good you were just in suddenly pushing against something that isn’t so great. Something that whispered of things you’d rather forget, casting shadows against the brightness Gabriel brought in these moments.

 

“Woah,” he said, everything lurching to a stop. You knew what was coming. That question always seemed on the tip of his tongue and you haven’t figured out yet if it had more to do with what he thought about you or if there was something else that always made him worry you were one wrong move from backing out.

 

“I’m leaving the shirt,” he reassured, snapping so that everything but your button down vanished. Your nipples hardened against the cold surface they were suddenly pressed against and it was a welcome sensation against the fire in your veins.

 

His touch turned tentative, stroking over to the dip of your waist and back again in a way that was almost too tender for you to tolerate. You ground back against him, eager to keep things moving.

 

“You gonna fuck me or stare at my ass all day?” You questioned, raising yourself up on your elbows as you caught his reflection admiring the view from behind. He smiled, more amused by your remark than anything as he briefly caught your gaze in the mirror. Your head dropped back down, another wave of anticipation sparking through your stomach as you felt him lining up with your entrance.

 

Instead of the hard thrust you expected, he eased himself in, hips rocking slow and steady until he was fully sheathed. You moaned at the blissfully full ache you felt as your walls stretched around him, drawing attention to just how long it had been since you’d had him there. He drew back, returning to you in a maddeningly languid stroke which he continued to repeat.

 

He was holding back. It was his fingers that gave him away, digging into your hips to the point where you knew he’d be leaving marks. You regretted not having as much control as he obviously did, the sentiment as tarnishing to this moment as the ugliness across your back. You should have worked harder to keep him out, and the frustration that blossomed in the wake of that thought was as welcoming as it was grounding.

 

“Not made of glass,” you reminded, an extra edge in your tone as you slammed yourself back against him, eliciting a sharp growl in return. It was all the encouragement he needed and this time his hips snapped against yours so hard your elbows were knocked right out from under you. The sound you made was sharp, but satisfied, and every thrust had you pushing back, meeting him just as eagerly.

 

Finally. This was what you needed, that band of coiling need already so taut it wasn’t going to be long before it snapped. He kept the pace slow and hard and the only sounds were a mixture of your punctuated cries, his grunts, and the rough slaps of his body meeting yours.

 

The gentle way he dragged against your walls every time he drew back was maddening, as was the burst of sensation when he buried himself back in you to the hilt. Flames licked higher and higher, churning through your stomach in heated waves until you were certain the wood beneath you was going to ignite. It didn’t, but neither did you, and you found yourself so close that you were looking right over the precipice without actually being able to cross the finish line.

 

“Faster,” you panted, trying to increase the speed only to find his hands responded by holding you firmly in place.

 

“You sure?” He breathed. “I don’t -- Not sure -- I can’t--”

 

He was limited to speaking between thrusts and that, combined with the fact he was not making any sense, had your impatience soaring. You reached forward, gripping the end of the bureau in preparation.

 

“Need it,” you told him, almost pleading as you remained stalled along that edge. His hands shifted further back pushing you more firmly against the dresser. One moment he was palming the curve of your ass, the next he was pistoning in and out of you at a breakneck pace. You didn’t even notice the way wood jerked beneath you, creaks punctuated every now and then by splintering snaps.

 

He was moving so fast you could barely breathe, and all you could focus on was the way he rubbed all the right spots over and over again inside you. You were almost there when you felt him grow a little thicker, and it was his pulsing that finally had you igniting, white hot heat searing over vision and thick ropes coating your walls as you both took each other over the ledge.

 

He buried himself one last time, pelvis pressed firmly against against you, before his full weight hit your back. Your eyes snapped open, your descent from pleasured heights much quicker than usual.

 

It was almost odd, feeling more of him against you after you’d finished than during the actual act. It pushed against the fringe of your comfort level, but it wasn't necessarily unpleasant. It was simply different in a way that whispered of a need to be cautious.

 

“That was close,” he murmured, breathing raggedly against your hair. “For a moment I thought I was going to ruin our perfect record of ladies before gentleman.”

 

So that was what he had been trying to tell you earlier.

 

Apparently angels weren’t absolute in all things.

 

“Hey, six weeks is unheard of for me,” he bristled, that pride of his flaring at the perceived slight.

 

You paused, trying to find a diplomatic way to say what you wanted to before remembering who it was you were speaking with. “You know you can just find someone else if I’m busy.”

 

He raised up off you, pulling out so abruptly you sucked in air from the sudden emptiness and rush of wetness between your legs.

 

“Du-uh,” he retorted before snapping. You felt the moisture disappear along with the sweat from your body. You pushed back, finding your legs a little wobbly as you turned around before sitting on top of the dresser.

 

“In case you’ve forgotten,” he told you, a sardonic edge overtaking both words and features as he extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Gabriel, and I like to fuck things.”

 

There was a stiffness to him that seemed out of place, though you had just insulted his masculinity and that pride of his was definitely one of his less infinite qualities. You rolled your eyes, a soft snort exiting your nose as you wrapped your arms around your stomach.

 

“Hi, Gabe, I’m y/n, and I like it when you remember to touch these,” you shot back as you grabbed his hand and placed it over one of your breasts.

 

“Oh,” he stretched the word out, lips forming an ‘o’ as his entire body moved to make a grand display of how affronted he was pretending to be. “I’d say I had something for that mouth of yours, but I think I’m a little busy.”

 

Sarcasm rippled through the thin pull of his smile and he pulled back, bringing a finger to his chin, before his gaze slid thoughtfully upward. “Maybe I’ll be free again in… six weeks or so?”

 

His eyes fell back to you, and there was a glint in his eye suggesting that was just the windup and the real pitch was about to come.

 

“But you’re more than welcome to pick up some rando at the bar in the meantime, if you enjoy having sloppy drunks fumbling through foreplay in the hopes of achieving passively mediocre sex.”

 

Either you had hit a nerve or he was really going all out this evening. The tension in the set of his shoulders made it unclear just how much of what he said was a show anymore.

 

“We ok?” You asked, the question feeling foreign coming from your tongue for once.

 

“Why wouldn't we be?” He asked, and the look he gave suggested he was questioning whether or not you might not be. “Careful with whatever you’ve been hunting, by the way,” he mentioned casually, snapping both your clothes back into place. “There’s some serious mojo being thrown about.”

 

“You can sense something?” You asked, mind instantly changing gears. If it had been Gabe all along, what else would he be sensing?

 

“You couldn’t?” His brows raised curiously before letting out a low whistle. “That’s one hell of a shield you got, sugar. Don’t worry. I took the liberty of fucking all that unnatural energy out of you.”

 

The smirk he gave suggested he was rather satisfied about that. He brought his hand up, index finger trailing languidly across your collarbone. You shuddered as his grace rippled through you, leaving your skin warm in it’s wake and… glowing?

 

You glanced down, watching as a combination of symbols flared with that blue-tinged angelic light.

 

“That should keep anything out,” he told you.

 

You didn’t realize such a thing was possible. While you knew Gabriel had considerable depth of knowledge, you never imagined he’d be holding out if any of it was useful. It was a little frustrating, and caused you to question the level of trust you had with him.

 

“This might have been helpful back in Houston,” you told him then added, “Grantham. Cabot. Worcester--” He covered your mouth with his hand, cutting you off.

 

“Listen here, sassafrass,” he prickled leveling a finger at you. “There are good reasons I don’t use this whenever the mood strikes. First, this magic is old. Really old. Like from my father’s OC days and not designed with humans in mind.”

 

Your brows crept up, mostly at the whiplash he was giving you, but also because your curiosity was piqued.

 

“OC?” You asked when he finally took his palm away.

 

“Original Creation,” he explained. “And like most things from that time, everything uber effective? Incredibly risky.”

 

“How risky?” You question, suspicion creeping into your tone. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him so much as --

 

“Nothing too major, just some minor risk of implosion on an atomic level if it’s not removed in time.”

 

\-- that. That right there was the reason why you couldn’t always accept his assistance at face value.

 

“Nothing to worry about, cupcake. I’ll be back in plenty of time to prevent any molecular meltdowns,” he said, catching the look on your face.

 

Gee, that made you feel so much better considering how responsive he’d been lately.

 

“Why don't you just stay,” you suggested. It seemed like a more logical solution than arming you with an unstable nuke and skipping town for Chuck knew how long.

 

“I dunno. Maybe I have better things to do than your job?” It wasn't the barb that stung so much as the casual way he tossed it, like it's simply an extension of his natural stream of consciousness.

 

What was with him tonight? Sex usually took the edge off of… well everything, but right now? He was looking a tad more cagey than when he first arrived.

 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, intuition flashing, but there was nothing for it to grasp save an inkling that something was off. Something shifted in his gaze, but gold was glancing away before you were able to get a read on it.

 

“Yeah. You’re wasting my time,” he said, and simply vanished without his usual snap as if even that wasn’t worth his time.

 

You sighed. He was such an ass sometimes.

 

***

 

Gabriel blinked, eyes taking in the magnificent stretch of sand in front of him. Waves gently crashed along the shoreline, a warm, salty breeze whispering across his face. It had been years since he’d been there; the houses and human encroachment made it nearly unrecognizable, but he would never forget this place, however much it changed.

 

He placed his hands in his pockets, doing his best to let the natural serenity of the sea calm the storm that had been steadily building over the past week. The quick tumble you’d shared wasn’t enough; a lingering want echoed through his veins. He never should have waited so long to respond to you, but his pride made other plans, your ability to casually cast him aside for untold lengths of time irking him more than he cared to acknowledge.

 

He should have stayed away from you. He never should have pushed what you had had. Friendship was simple. Sex, too. Combine them, however, and he was finding himself in less certain territory, and Gabriel had never been one for operating without a game plan.

 

Like now. There he stood, alone, without a clue as to what to expect other than things had been going pretty good in his life so it was only natural the other shoe would drop.

 

He felt her presence well before she announced herself.

 

“Kali,” he acknowledged. Under different circumstances, he might have turned and given her a proper greeting. He might have even been close to forgiving her for shoving what she thought was his blade through his chest. As it was, he was beginning to regret not leaving her at the mercy of his brother.

 

“Gabriel,” she greeted, stepping up beside him. Cocoa skin glowed warmly beneath the rising sun, dark strands billowing behind her in the breeze. Like Gabriel, she kept her eyes on the horizon, taking in the sight of their old spot with what appeared to be distaste.

 

“The more they spread, the more I cannot help but think of them like parasites,” she remarked. He was almost impressed. That was the closest thing to sentimental she’d waxed in… ever.

 

“What do you want?” He asked, not in the mood to play whatever game she’d started.

 

“You know what they say: knowledge is power and who would have more of that than an archangel who’s been around since the beginning?” She turned, features unreadable save the barest hint of a smirk of someone who believed they have the upper hand.

 

“There are these novel little things called libraries these days,” he suggested, sarcasm flaring from his tongue and giving words a sardonic edge. “And even the internet if you’re feeling particularly daring.”

 

“I see not much has changed,” she said, a slight wryness coloring her tone. “Though I doubt what I want to know is written in any book.”

 

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you anything anyway, hmmm?”

 

To be honest, he’d rather attend another soul-baring family reunion than be her lapdog.

 

“Because I’m the one holding your leash,” she reminded, smugness singing through the smile she gave. He glowered at her, ground shaking slightly as he contemplated whether or not he could snap her out of existence faster than she could use her magic against him. A wave of her hand had the earth stilling, the blood in his vessel bubbling up in his throat, and the searing pain that boiled through him brought him to his knees.

 

“So when you are called, you will not make me wait. You will come immediately and the next time you make me drag you here myself, I guarantee you will not like what happens,” she hissed, dispelling the magic over him. Gabriel rose to his feet, the pain easing, as his grace began to undo all the damage she’d caused in such a short amount of time.

 

“Have a seat, angel,” she told him, her tone much more genial. “I have a feeling we’ll be here awhile.”


End file.
